My Own Story of Traveling Pants

Okay, so here's a little embarrassing story about me.

Today, I am finally chucking a pair of Hollister jeans I've been wearing for the past five years. And five years ago, before the jeans came into my possession, they were owned and worn by three other people for at least a year. Now, with a few holes in them, and on getting to that embarrassingly big stage, I must face the awful truth.

They've run their course.

The jeans started out as Greg's Jeans, and to me will always be known as such. I've always called them that. Even a few months ago when I was in DC visiting my sister and I mentioned to her I still had Greg's Jeans. With a raised eyebrow she surveyed them and a few minutes later realized what I was talking about...they're that old.

As a junior and senior in high school, Greg worked for Hollister. He was also in a band, an emo band, which at that time, they called Strikeout Semester. I have no idea if the band's still together but last I heard they'd changed the name to something less catchy which I can never remember. As an emo boy, Greg wore girls' jeans, many of which, he bought at Hollister.

I should mention at this point, I've never actually met Greg.

One of the guys in the band, the youngest, and in my biased opinion, most talented, Mike also happened to be my sister's boyfriend. He was a few years younger than Greg and idolized him a little and one afternoon when Greg was getting rid of some old clothes, he handed down Greg's Jeans to Mike, who gladly took and wore them, because he was emo and he wore girls' jeans too.

My sister, after being sick with mono for a year, went over to Mike's house one afternoon to spend some time together, and he planned to introduce her to the band and get their approval of her. Nevermind that they'd been dating a year and a half and he'd been in the band less time. She'd been sick for a while and hadn't managed to meet any of them, and he was taking the band and it's rules very seriously. But while sick, she'd taken time out from swimming and that in combination with wearing an old pair of jeans which were pretty worn turned out to be a bad idea. While at his house, she bent over to get something and the jeans ripped. Panicked about making a good impression for the band, she needed to borrow a pair of jeans from Mike. Since he wore girls' jeans, this was actually not a big problem. And he gave her Greg's Jeans to wear.

And she held onto them for awhile. Until I came home from college one day and needed to borrow a pair of jeans, and she passed Greg's Jeans on to me. I took them back to Miami with me and held onto them through my sister going off to college herself, breaking up with Mike, the band changing its name, my own move to California, my sister graduating from college, and my own move back to NY. Greg's Jeans have gone through a lot with me: a marriage, a divorce, a fiance, an ex, two cross country drives, two careers, too many nights out in too many different cities to count.

Thanks Greg :)

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1 comment:

Unknown said...

LOVE this story. Seriously. This should be a book--it'd be better than the one already written about pants, that's for sure!